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l^Ve carry our new-born children forth 



-T^^^ 



^ 



The Song of 
the Ancient People 

By Edna Dean Proctor 

with Preface and Notes by John Fiske 

and Commentary by F H pushing 

Illustrafed with eleven Aquatints 

By Julian Scott 




Boston and New York 

Houghton, Mifflin and Company 

Won, lHitcr0"jbc i^rcss, Cambrf&oe 




M DCCCXCIII 



Copyright, iSgz, 

By the Hemenvvay Southwestern 

Arch.«oi.ogical Expedition. 

All rights reserved. 



The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U.S.A. 
Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Co. 



V 



f^P^ 



Z{ 



%i0tot%qmtint^ 



PAGE 

" We carry our new-born children forth." J^ron- 
tispiece. 

" Ours is the ancient wisdom " 

Watching the Corn 4 

" And wile the wolf from his den " . 

" As full to the east we kneel " . 

" Twin children of the Sun " . 

" The silent heart's appeal "... 

" Far to west, Francisco's peaks " . 

" We are the Ancient People 

Born with the wind and rain " . 
" The trickling springs at the mesa foot " 
" The mountain meadow's bloom " 



2^ 


r; 


7 y 

13^ 


15^' 
18 / 


20 • 


22 /' 


23 6/ 



©refatc 

It is customary to speak of America as 
the New World ; and to the white race of 
men it is indeed a world that has but re- 
cently been made known, and in which 
European civilization has begun to flourish 
under new conditions. The scene of the 
political and social development of New 
York, of Manitoba, or of Chili, is very 
properly called a New World. But there 
is another point of view from which Amer- 
ica must be regarded as preeminently an 
Old World. The people of aboriginal 
America, when visited by Europeans in 
the time of Columbus and Cortes, were in 
a stage of social development somewhat 
such as the people of Europe had passed 
through and left behind some centuries 
before the city of Rome was built, or the 

V 



Greeks had begun to reckon time by 
Olympiads. The parallelism is not in all 
respects complete, but it is very striking 
and instructive. 

There can be no doubt, I should think, 
that the gradual differentiation of the 
races of mankind took place after man 
had become distinctively human, and in 
all probability this differentiation began 
in the Eastern hemisphere. In other 
words, the aborigines of America probably 
migrated to this continent either from 
Asia or from Europe, But these things 
happened a great while ago, probably long 
before the Glacial Period, and — as I be- 
lieve it will ultimately be proved — even 
as far back as the Pliocene age. The 
ancestors of the Red Men doubtless made 
their way hither on foot during some one 
of the many periods when North America 
was joined both to Siberia and to north- 
em Europe. Their race-peculiarities may 
have been developed partly in the slow 
vi 



dispersal and migration, still more in the 
countless ages during which they have 
dwelt upon American soil. For a length 
of time, in comparison with which the 
interval between the building of Solomon's 
temple and that of the World's Fair edi- 
fices at Chicago seems extremely brief, the 
isolation of America from the Eastern 
hemisphere was complete. All attempts 
at tracing an Asiatic or European influ- 
ence upon the thoughts, the customs, the 
arts of pre - Columbian America have 
failed utterly. There is little room for 
doubt that the state of society found on 
this continent by the Spaniards was in all 
its phases and in every particular a purely 
American growth. Wherever it presented 
points of resemblance, either deep-seated 
or superficial, to social phenomena in 
Europe or Asia, the true explanation is to 
be found in the limited range of culture 
and the similarity in the workings of the 
human mind at different times and places, 
vii 



^preface 

That similarity is often very remarkable, 
as the comparative study of languages, of 
folk-lore, and of institutions abundantly 
teaches us. 

Society in America, then, and society 
in the Eastern hemisphere followed each 
its own course in utter independence 
and ignorance of the other. There were 
many parallelisms, both curious and in- 
structive, between the two ; as, for exam- 
ple, the general organization of society in 
clans, phratries, and tribes, and even such 
special correspondences as the function 
of the phratry in prosecuting criminals, 
among Aztecs and Iroquois, as among the 
ancient Greeks and our own Germanic 
forefathers. The divergences are quite 
as interesting as the parallelisms. Social 
development in America proceeded much 
more slowly than in Europe ; and the ad- 
vance toward civilization among the Mexi- 
cans, Mayas, and Peruvians had begun to 
take on a very different aspect from any- 
viii 



pttfatt 

thing ever seen in the Eastern hemi- 
sphere. The causes of the slowness of 
social progress in ancient America were 
complex, but one very important cause 
may here be singled out for mention. 
The dog, used chiefly for hunting, was 
from time immemorial domesticated in 
both hemispheres ; but of those agricul- 
tural animals — the ass, horse, camel, ox, 
goat, sheep, and hog — the New World 
had not one. The effects of this differ- 
ence were very profound and very far- 
reaching. The longest strides towards 
civilization that ever were taken in the 
Old World were the evolution of the patri- 
archal family in place of the old mater- 
nally-related clan, and of private wealth in 
place of the primitive communism, and 
both these strides were closely connected 
with the keeping of flocks and herds. In 
the Mediterranean countries these strides 
had been taken before the times of Aga- 
memnon or of Abraham. In aboriginal 
ix 



ptefBtt 

America, where there was never a pastoral 
stage of social development, they were 
never taken at all. Of the vast mass of 
ideas and sentiments originating in indis- 
soluble wedlock, with the accumulation 
and inheritance of private property, the 
minds of the Red Men were destitute. 
In this respect, and in general, society in 
the Western hemisphere lagged at least 
sixty or seventy centuries, and perhaps 
more, behind society in the Eastern. 
The dim past that lies back of European 
history is to some extent brought before 
us in the Red Man contemporary with us. 
Except for changes wrought by contact 
with white men, his mental furnishing 
and his social arrangements are in many 
ways like those of our own forefathers in 
that far-off time when the Aryan mother- 
speech was forming. Such, at least, is 
the legitimate inference from all the facts 
before us ; and thus it appears that in a 
very deep sense America may be regarded 



1 



as preeminently an Old World, and its 
native inhabitants as especially an Ancient 
People. If not in all senses more ancient 
than ourselves, they are unquestionably 
more old-fashioned. 

Among the aboriginal Americans there 
were, and still are, great and important 
differences in degree of culture. The 
highest grade reached anywhere was a 
barbarism without iron or the alphabet, 
but in some respects simulating civiliza- 
tion, and unquestionably different from 
anything ever seen at any time in the 
Eastern hemisphere. Without beasts of 
draught, the Red Man had no use for a 
plough or a wheel-carriage. Agriculture, 
properly so called, was impossible, but a 
certain kind of rude horticulture was prac- 
ticed, in which the ground was scratched 
and hoed, and maize, pumpkins, tobacco, 
and other vegetables were grown. Chief 
among these plants was the maize, the 
Indian corn, most beautiful and beneficent 
xi 



preface 

of the cereals, and as typical of ancient 
American culture as the cow was typical 
of private property {pecidiuvi) among the 
early Aryans. No other plant is so inti- 
mately associated with the whole aborigi- 
nal history of the Western hemisphere as 
Indian corn. Far more than any other 
plant it is the emblem of America. In the 
southwestern portion of the territory of 
the United States, and thence southward 
along the Cordilleras as far as Lake Titi- 
caca, the aborigines cultivated this cereal 
systematically and on an extensive scale 
with the aid of irrigation. This improved 
horticulture was the chief basis of the 
semi-civilizations of the Cordilleras. With 
the increase of population clans grew to 
large dimensions, and learned to build for 
themselves great communal fortresses of 
adobe-brick and ultimately of stone. These 
pueblo-castles and their neighboring gar- 
dens of maize are typical of the most ad- 
vanced society in aboriginal America, as 
xii 



tents and herds of cattle were once typi- 
cal of the most progressive societies in 
the Eastern hemisphere. The city of 
Mexico, which was so bewildering to its 
Spanish visitors and conquerors, was doubt- 
less a collection of such communal for- 
tresses. 

The Pueblo Indians of New Mexico and 
Arizona are still surviving examples of 
this advanced aboriginal society. In many 
respects they do not seem to have attained 
to as high a stage of semi-civilization as 
the Mayas and Mexicans, but they are to 
be classed with these peoples as belonging 
to a stage far more advanced than the partly 
hunting and partly horticultural Indians 
of North America, such as the Creeks or 
the Iroquois. Of the Pueblo Indians the 
principal surviving groups are those of 
the Rio Grande valley, the Zunis of New 
Mexico, and the Moquis (or Hopi) of Ari- 
zona. The two last-named groups have 
been less affected by contact with white 
xiii 



^preface 

men than those of the Rio Grande. In 
many respects the Zufiis are the most 
characteristic and interesting of all. But 
the pueblos least modified by contact with 
white men are surely those of the Moquis, 
with whom my friend Mr. Julian Scott 
lived for a year or so, and from whom he 
has taken the subjects of some of his most 
charming sketches in the present volume. 
Few Americans realize how highly our 
country is favored in having within its 
limits such communities as those of the 
Moquis and Zufiis. Our land is certainly 
lacking in such features of human interest 
as the ruins of mediaeval castles and Gre- 
cian temples. But we may be to some ex- 
tent consoled when we reflect that within 
our broad domains we have surviving rem- 
nants of a state of society so old-fashioned 
as to make that of the Book of Genesis 
seem modern by comparison. In some 
respects the Moquis and Zunis may be 
called half-civilized ; but their turn of 
xiv 



thought is still very primitive. They are 
peaceful and self-respecting people, and in 
true refinement of behavior are far su- 
perior to ourselves. We have still much 
to learn from them concerning ancient 
society, and we ought not to be in too 
great a hurry to civilize them, especially 
if they do not demand it of us. 

Miss Proctor's noble and spirited poem 
speaks for itself and tells its own story. 
As a rendering of Moqui-Zuni thought it 
is a contribution of great and permanent 
value to American literature. So it was 
regarded — as I think it permissible to tell 
— by our beloved poet Whittier, who has 
just left us. Miss Proctor had entitled 
her poem simply "The Ancient People," 
but when Mr. Whittier listened with keen 
pleasure to the reading of it, he said at 
once that it should be called " The Song 
of the Ancient People;" for do we not 
hear their own voice and feel their own 
heart's beat in every line ? The poet's 

XV 



instinct was here as sure as if he had been 
an ethnologist. 

The poem, I say, tells its own story ; 
but as Mr. Gushing also feels a lively in- 
terest in that story, we could not lose the 
opportunity to have him further elucidate 
and enrich it in his " Commentary of a 
Zuni Familiar." Somewhat as the old 
hymns of the Veda had their commen- 
tary, half poetical, half philosophical, in 
the Upanishads, so in a somewhat similar 
way — though all such comparisons need 
qualification — does "The Song of the 
Ancient People " find further interpreta- 
tion at the hands of the adopted priest of 
the Zunis. 

For such phrases and allusions in the 
poem as seem to need explanation for the 
general reader, I have appended explana- 
tory notes ; and in these notes, so far as 
the pictures are concerned, I have em- 
bodied sundry materials furnished by Mr. 
Julian Scott. While my own share in the 
xvi 



book has been a brief and humble one, I 
shall never forget the delightful sense of 
comradeship aroused in working with such 
friends and allies. But I am sure we 
should all feel this little book to be sadly 
incomplete and ungrateful, if in its Preface 
no mention were to be made of our be- 
loved and revered friend, Mrs. Mary Hem- 
enway, to whose enlightened and untiring 
zeal American archaeology, no less than 
the later history of our country, is more 
deeply indebted than is ever likely to be 
generally known. 

John Fiske 
xvii 



Cl^e ^ong of 
Cl^e ancient people 



Z})z ^ons of 
Cl^e ancient ^toplt 

We are the Ancient People ; 

Our father is the Sun ; 
Our mother, the Earth, where the 
mountains tower 

And the rivers seaward run ; 
The stars are the children of the 
sky, 

The red men, of the plain ; 
And ages over us both had rolled 

Before you crossed the main ; — 
For we are the Ancient People, 

Born with the wind and rain. 

And ours is the ancient wisdom. 
The lore of Earth and cloud: — ■ 



Oms zs the ancient wisdom 



We know what the awful lightnings 

mean, 
Wi-lo-lo-a-ne with arrows keen, 

And the thunder crashing loud ; — 
And why with his glorious, burning 
shield 
His face the Sun-God hides, 
As, glad from the east, while night 

recedes. 
Over the Path of Day he speeds 

To his home in the ocean tides ; 
For the Deathless One at eve must 

die. 
To flame anew in the nether sky, — 
Must die, to mount when the Morning 
Star, 
First of his warrior-host afar. 
Bold at the dawning rides ! 
And we carry our new-born children 

forth 
His earliest beams to face, 



tEfje Ancient people 

And pray he will make them strong 

and brave 
As he looks from his shining place, — 
Wise in council and firm in war, 
And fleet as the wind in the chase ; — 
And why the Moon, the Mother of 
Souls, 
On summer nights serene, 
Fair from the azure vault of heaven 

To Earth will fondly lean, 
While her sister laughs from the tran- 
quil lake, 
Soft-robed in rippling sheen ; 
For the Moon is the bride of the glow- 
ing Sun, 
But the Goddess of Love is she 
Who beckons and smiles from the 

placid depths 
Of the lake and the shell-strown 

sea; — 
Why the Rainbow, A-mi-to-lan-ne, 
3 



IVatching the Corn 



w 






\ K^^ 



>3i*^ 






tE^lje Ancient ^people 

From the Medicine lilies drew 
Orange and rose and violet 

Before the fall of the dew, — 
The dews that guard the Corn-maids, 

And the fields keep fair to view ; 
But the Rainbow is false and cruel. 

For it ends the gentle showers, 
And the opening leaves and the ten- 
der buds 
Like the ruthless worm devours, 
And still its stolen tints are won 
From the blanching, withering flow- 
ers ; 
The Morning Star, the Sun, and the 

Moon — 
Ya-o-na, Ya-to-k'-ya, and Md-ya- 
tchun — 
Bring bounty and love and life. 
But the Bow of the Skies and the 
Lightning 
With famine and death are rife, 
4 



And wile the wolf from his den 



And wile the wolf from his den 



^Ije 0ncimt ||Deoplc 

And we paint their forms on our ar- 
row-shafts 
And our shields, when battle lowers : — 
We know what the breeze to the pine- 
tree sings, 
And the brook to the meadow fair, 
And the eagle screams to the plunging 

streams 
Where the cliffs are cold and bare, — 
The eagle, bird of the Whirlwind-God, 

Lone-wheeling through the air ; 
And we can charm the serpent's tooth. 

And wile the wolf from his den, 
For the beasts have told us their se- 
crets 
Close-kept from other men, — 
The mighty beasts that rove the hills. 

Or lurk in cave and fen : 
The bear in his gloomy canon ; 

High 'mid the crags, the sheep ; 
The antelope, whose endless files 
5 



O'er the far mesa's rocky isles 
Their silent marches keep ; 
The lordly bison with his herds ; 

Coyote swift and sly ; 
The badger in his earthy house 

Where warm the sunbeams lie ; 
The savage mountain lion 

With his deadly roar and leap : — 
And, when the serpent has sought his 
lair 
And the thunder peal is still, 
We know why the down of the North- 
land drifts 
O'er wood and waste and hill ; 
And how the light-winged butterflies 
To the brown fields summer bear, 
And the balmy breath of the Corn- 
maids floats 
In June's enchanted air ; 
And when to pluck the Medicine flow- 
ers 

6 



As full to the east ive kneel 



tirije ^ncitnt people 

On the brow of the mountain peak, 
The lilies of Te-na-tsa-li, 

That brighten the faded cheek, 
And heal the wounds of the warrior 
And the hunter worn and weak ; 
And where in the hills the crystal 

stones 
And the turquoise blue to seek ; 
And how to plant the earliest maize, 

Sprinkling the sacred meal. 
And setting our prayer-plumes in the 
midst 
As full to the east we kneel, — 
The plumes whose life shall waft our 

wish 
To the heights the skies conceal ; 
Nay, when the stalks are parched on 
the plain 
And the deepest springs are dry, 
And the Water-God, the jeweled toad, 
Is lost to every eye, 
7 



tK'^t Ancient ^toplt 

With song and dance and voice of flutes 

That soothe the Regions Seven, 
We can call the blessed summer 
showers 

Down from the listening heaven ! 
For ours is the lore of a dateless past, 

And we have power thereby, — 
Power which our vanished fathers 
sought 

Through toil and watch and pain, 
Till the spirits of wood and wave and 
air 

To grant us help were fain ; 
For we are the Ancient People, 

Born with the wind and rain. 

And, year by year, when the mellow 
moons 
Beam over the mountain wall, 
Or the hearths are bright with the 
pifion fires 
8 



^^t indent ^people 

And the wild winds rise and fall, 
Our precious things to their shrines 

are brought 
That the tribes may be brave and 

strong ; 
And round our altars with mystic rite, 
Vigil and fast and song's delight, 

And measured dance we throno-, — 
The dance and prayers of the A'-ka-ka 

That peace and joy prolong. 
Of the Wood-Gods' flesh these altars 
To the Great Six Realms we 
frame : — 
For the North, of the Pine, whose yel- 
low heart 
Nor blasts nor snows can tame ; 
For the West, of the Willow, whose 
leaves are blue 
As they toss in the breeze at morn ; 
For the South, of the Cedar, ruddy- 
hued, 

9 



XB^t Ancient people 

From whose bark the flame is born ; 
For the East, of the Poplar, downy- 
white 
In the dawn of the gladsome year ; 
For the Realm Above, of the Juniper, 
That climbs to the summits clear ; 
And of Laurel Root, for the Realm 
Below, 
Deep-hid in the canons drear ; — 
Frame that the Beings Beloved may 
come 
And their forms and thoughts re- 
veal; 
For naught, from the heart through 
vigils pure, 
Will the Mighty Ones conceal. 
Our richest robes and brightest hues 

For the watching sky we wear. 
With necklace-beads and eagle-plumes 

Above our flowing hair, 
And yellow pollen over us blown, 

lO 



®t)e Ancient people 

Good-will from the Gods to bear ; 
And with symbols of the lightning, 

The winds, the clouds, the rain, — 
Crosses, terraces, slanting bars, — 
We deck our blankets and our jars 

Their favor to constrain ; 
And we weave for priest and priestess 

The sash and mantle white, 
Broidered with many a magic thread 

To give these Gods delight. 
And save our cherished homes from 
harm 

And our fields from flood and 
blight. 
And tales we tell by the evening flame 

Of how the Earth was made, 
And the tribes came up from the 
Under- world 

To people plain and glade, — 
Tales that will echo round our hearths 

Till the last glow shall fade ; 
II 



Twin children of the Sun 



tE^lje Ancient people 

And of the two immortal youths, 

Twin children of the Sun, 
Who eastward led their faltering bands 
To find where morn begun, — 

To gain the stable, midmost lands, 
And the trembling borders shun ; 
And of Pd-shai-an-k'ya, the master, 

Whose help we never lose, 
Who bade us turn from hate and guile 

And ever the noblest choose, 
And said that whoso smites a man 

His own heart doth bruise. 
Of Earth and the Gods he taught us, — 

How slope and plain to till, 
And the streams that fall from the 
mountain snows 

To turn and store at will ; 
And how to trace the glorious Sun 

North and south to his goal ; 
And straight, when the body's life is 
done, 

12 



tEPlje Ancient l^toplt 

Set free the prisoned soul ! 
His voice was sweet as the summer 
wind, 
But his robe was poor and old, 
And, scorned of men, he journeyed 
far 
To the city the mists enfold, — 
Far to the land where his treasured 
lore 
And secret rites were told ; 
And there with a chosen few he dwelt 

And made their darkness day, 
Till lo! while his words yet thrilled 

their hearts. 
Unseen, as the summer wind departs. 

He vanished in mist away ! — 
Passed to the splendor of the Sun, 
He, the divine, the gracious one. 

To hear our prayers for aye ! 
And still our holy fires we keep, 
And the sacred meal we strow, 
13 



tETtie ancient ]ptoplt 

With many a prayer to the Gods of 
the air 
And the Gods that dwell below, — 
The Gods of the Great Six Regions : 

The yellow, dreadful North ; 
The West, with the blue of sea and 

sky; 
The ruddy South, where the corals lie 

And the fragrant winds go forth ; 
The pure white East, whose virgin 
dawns 
Lead up the conquering Sun, 
While stars grow pale and shadows 
fail, 
For the shrouding night is done ; 
The Over-world, where all the hues 

In radiant beauty shine ; 
The Under-world, more black and 
drear 
Than the gloom of the deepest 
mine; 

14 



1 



The silent heart V appeal 




..Jf 






TOe Ancient ^people 

And the Middle Realm, where the 
Mother reigns 
And binds them all in one ; — 
Prayers in the words our fathers 

knew, 
And prayers that voiceless steal 
To the Holder of the Trails of Life 

And thought to thought reveal ! 
For the clamorous cry unheard will 

die, 
While, swift as light, ascends on high 

The silent heart's appeal. 
And we offer the pledge of sacrifice 

To lull the earthquake's wrath, 
And hush the roar of the whirlwind 

Abroad on his furious path, — 
Turquoise blue, and ocean-shells, 
And the soothing, spicy scent that 
dwells 
In the rare tobacco leaves, 
And macaw-plumes to guard from ill 
15 



I 



t!I^l)e Ancient :|jDeople 

And bring us store of sheaves ; 
Nay, in the time when thunders 

pealed 
And Earth swung to and fro, 
Our dearest maids to the angry Gods 

With fervent heart would go, 
That the perfect gift of a stainless life 

Might still the vengeful throe ; — 
For our fathers were wise and pure of 

breath, 
The breath that is soul the word be- 
neath, 

And all their ways we know. 
And when at last the shadow falls 

And the sleep no thunders wake, 
By the dead a vase of water clear 

For the parted soul we break, 
Giving the life again to the Sun 

Through Ka-thlu-er-lon's Lake ; 
And, facing the east, the body lay 

In our mother Earth to rest, 
i6 



W^t Ancient IJDeople 

Where dews may fall and dawns may 

gleam 
And purple and crimson radiance 
stream 
When day is low in the west ; 
And plumes of the birds of summer- 
land, 
Freighted with many a prayer, 
We bring to help the spirit's way 

In the pathless depths of air. 
But we do not fear that silent flight. 

Nor the slumber lone and chill ; 
For the Home of the Dead has song 
and love, 
And they wander where they will ; 
And morn and eve, by hearth and 
wood, 
We see their faces still. 
Thus, day and night, and night and day. 

Our rites the Gods enchain. 
And bring us peace no others win 
17 



Far to west, Francisco' s peaks 




>f 



> ^ 



^ 



ITa 



i 



tlP^e ^ncitnt ^people 

Of all their earthly train ; 
For we are the Ancient People, 
Born with the wind and rain. 

And yet . . . and yet ... on the 
mesa top 
As we sit when the sun is low, 
And, far to west, Francisco's peaks 

Blaze in his parting glow, — 
While plain, and rock, and cedar- 
steep 
Fade slow from rose to gray. 
And the sand-clouds, blown by the 
flying wind. 
Like demons chase the day ; 
And the fires of the wandering mete- 
ors gleam. 
And the dire mirage looms far 
To beckon us hence to the nameless 
land 
Where our Lost Others are ; 
i8 



tB^t Ancient ijpeople 

And, weird as the wail by the Spirit 
Lake 
Bewildered hunters know, 
The cry of the owl comes mournful up 

From the dusky glen below, — 
That boding cry when death is nigh 

And days that are dim with woe ; — 
Sit, and think that but ruins mark 

The realm that erst was ours. 
The countless cities wrapped in dust 

Which once were stately powers, 
And that over our race, as over the 
plain, 
The gathering darkness lowers ; 
And see how great from the Sunrise- 
land 
Vou come with every boon, 
We know that ours is the waning. 
And yours is the waxing moon ! 
Know that our grief and yearning 
prayers, 

19 



IVe are the Ancient People 

Born with the wind and rain 



i 



tET^e Ancient ^people 

As reeds in the blast, are vain, 
And with arrows of keenest anguish 

Our tortured hearts are slain ; 
For we are the Ancient People, 

Born with the wind and rain ! 

But the same Earth spreads for us and 
you, 

And death for both is one ; 
Why should we not be brothers true 

Before our day is done ? 
You are many and great and strong ; 

We, only a remnant weak; 
Our heralds call at sunset still. 
Yet ah, how few on plain or hill 

The evening councils seek ! 
And words are dead and lips are dumb 

Our hopeless woe to speak. 
For the fires grow cold, and the dances 
fail, 

And the songs in their echoes die ; 
20 



4 



tiriie 2intimt ^people 

And what have we left but the graves 

beneath, 
And, above, the waiting sky ? — 
Our fathers sought these frowning 
cliffs 
To rid them of their foes, 
And thrice and more, on the mesa 
floor, 
Our terraced towns uprose ; 
But when the stress of war was past. 

To the lowlands glad we went, 
For the plain — the plain is our 
domain, 
The home of our hearts' content; 
And here, O brothers, let us dwell 

And find at last repose, 
By towering Ta-ai-yal'-lo-ne, 

And the river that westward goes ! 
For the roads were long and rough we 
trod 
To our fields of clustering corn, 

21 



The trickling springs at the fnesa foot 




JcA.&a/^^'^^Xjalt- 



xa^^t Ancient l^toplt 

And our women grew old ere youth 
was spent, 

As wearily, night and morn, 
They climbed the steep with the 
earthen jars, 

Slow-filled, to the very brim, 
From the trickling springs at the 
mesa foot 

In the willow thickets dim. 
Time was when seen from the loftiest 
peak 

The realm was all our own, 
And only the words of the A-shi-wi 

To the four winds were known ; — 
Ours were the veins of silver ; 

The rivers' bounteous flow 
Filling the maze of our water-ways 

From the heights to the vales below ; 
The plains outspreading to the sky. 

The crags, the canon's gloom. 
The cedar shades, the pifion groves, 

22 



The mountain meadow's bloom 




w , 



.^ 



Wf}z Ancient ^people 

The mountain meadow's bloom ; 
Nay, even the very Sun was ours, 

Above us circling slow ! 
And now . . . and now . . . from the 
lowest hill 

Your pastures we descry ; 
Your speech is borne on every breeze 

That blows the mesas by ; 
Our deep canals are furrows faint 

On the wide and desert plain ; 
Of the grandeur of our temple-walls 

But mounds of earth remain. 
And over our altars and our graves 

Your towns rise proud and high ! 
The bison is gone, and the antelope 

And the mountain sheep will follow. 
And all our lands your restless bands 

Will search from height to hollow ; 
And the world we knew and the life 
we lived 

Will pass as the shadows fly 
23 



I 



W)e Ancient ^people 

When the morning wind blows fresh 
and free 
And daylight floods the sky. 
Alas for us who once were lords 

Of stream and peak and plain ! . . . 
By ages done, by Star and Sun, 

We will not brook disdain ! 
No ! though your strength were thou- 
sand-fold 
From farthest main to main ; 
For we are the Ancient People, 
Born with the wind and rain ! 
24 



(Sommeiitarp 
of a Zmi f amiUar 

By F. H. GUSHING 



Commcntarp 

In commenting upon this Song of the 
Ancient People, one is strongly tempted to 
treat it in the mood and with the charac- 
teristic turns of phrase of a Zuni Familiar. 
The poem itself seems to invite such a 
course, — so ancient is it in spirit and 
feeling, so true to the thought and the lore 
of the people it speaks for. It may be 
likened to a torchlight borne through the 
deep reaches of a primeval forest at mid- 
night, giving vivid glimpses of the teem- 
ing mythic forms of ancient Pueblo fancy 
and wisdom ; so many and so representa- 
tive are the points which Miss Proctor, in 
briefly touching them, has illumined with 
her genius. My slender excuse for the 
following commentary is the desire to ex- 
pand some of the brief allusions of her 
poem ; to carry the light now and then 
somewhat further along the forest trail, 
and get a fuller view of the creatures of 
27 



Commentary 

primeval fancy. To explore the whole 
labyrinth of myth and imagery native to 
the Ancient People would require many 
stout volumes. In the little that is here 
added to Miss Proctor's verses I can but 
bear witness to her strict fidelity of state- 
ment, and attempt to show, as one of the 
Ancient People themselves would be glad 
to show, how well she has divined their 
spirit. 

Let me seize this opportunity for saying 
a word about the poetry of primitive men. 
We can hardly emphasize too strongly the 
fact — to which many people are quite 
blind — that but for our slender inherit- 
ance traditionally, and our still more slen- 
der inheritance emotionally, of the mood of 
primeval humanity, all that is best in mod- 
ern poetry would be lost. When I give 
but a poor translation of some ancient Zufii 
epos or myth, I often hear the incredu- 
lous remark : " It cannot be that those 
people are so poetical. Surely it is impos- 
sible for them, without the art of writing, 
to give such finished and measured, even 
rhythmic expression to their thoughts ! " 

It must be remembered that to one of 
28 



Commentary 

the Ancient People everything is symbolic; 
even the wind itself is breath and can 
speak ; all natural phenomena are either 
personalities or personal acts. Such con- 
ceptions are woven into the very fibre of 
his speech, and dramatized in the very acts 
of his daily life. The symbolic interpre- 
tation of nature results in myth, the dra- 
maturgic presentation of myth results in 
the dance and song of measured words ; 
and thus among the Zunis have arisen 
an astonishing number of epic recitations 
which, but for their too intense solemnity 
and their lofty disregard of the merely 
human element in the story, might fairly 
be classed with the Eddas of our Scandi- 
navian ancestors. I am sure they would 
not lose by the comparison. It is quite 
right, therefore, that in giving us the utter- 
ances of the Ancient People the modern 
poet should clothe them with rhythm and 
rhyme, and call her poem a " Song." 

If my commentary upon the poem is 
dictated mainly by what I know of the 
Zuni people, and is rendered as the utter- 
ance of one of themselves, it need not be 
feared that my statements will fail to apply 
29 



Commentary 

to the people of the other pueblos as well. 
The Zufiis are as ancient as any of these 
peoples, and even to-day they enjoy a 
kind of preeminence. More than half of 
their mythic lore and phrases have been 
adopted by the more primitive Tusayan 
Indians (Moquis) of Arizona, and much 
has been taken from them by the more 
modernized pueblos of the Rio Grande. 

With Miss Proctor I can say these an- 
cient peoples all call the Sun their Father, 
and never fail to speak of him as such. 
It was said by their ancient seers : Before 
aught was, before even Time began to be, 
the Holder of the Trails of Life, whose 
person is the Sun, whose bright shield we 
see each shining day, — before aught was, 
save void space and darkness, He was. 
And by thinking he wrought light, and 
with light he dispelled the darkness, whence 
descended clouds and water, even as from 
the night fall mists of the morning laden 
with moisture. Into these life-sustaining 
waters he dropped the seed of his being, 
whence sprang the Sky-Father and the 
Earth-Mother. Born of these twain were 
all creatures here below, numberless on 
30 



Commentary 

the plains, as in the sky. Born of his sis- 
ter, the Moon-Mother, were the lesser stars, 
themselves our brothers paternal even as 
we are their brothers younger. 

The Red Men, dusky with the darkness 
of their birth from the fourfold womb of 
the Earth-Mother, and ruddy with the life 
she gave them, were the earliest born of 
men. Even the seven wind-making Grand- 
sires came forth with them, and they 
brought the seeds of rain and storm. Such 
were our fathers, — fathers of the man- 
races of men. For when your fathers came 
from over the Sea of Sunrise, they were 
white like the Dawn whom they followed, 
and weakly withal like women, and in 
these our deserts they often died of thirst. 
Wherefore said our ancient seers : These 
palefaces must be our younger brothers, 
the zvonian-men born on the other side of 
the world, when, after giving birth to us, 
our Earth-Mother turned over, perchance 
that she might give birth to them. Yet 
how could ye have been born had not the 
Twain own children of the Sun, the War- 
riors of Chance, descended and planted the 
world-canes in the nethermost womb of 

31 



Commentary 

Earth, that, by climbing as on ladders, our 
unfinished fathers and the creatures with 
them might be brought forth ? 

Even as they led them forth, the Twain 
Beloved taught certain Chosen Ones con- 
cerning the substance and meaning of 
things high and low. And they said unto 
the Chosen Ones: Fear not the serpent 
shafts of the lightning as they rattle loudly, 
that the earth be replenished with their 
children the serpents of water, the rivers of 
life. Fear not the light of the Sun-Father, 
though at first it seemeth to blind and 
to blight, for beneath him he carries his 
shield, so that the world is not seared as 
he journeys along the path of day, — the 
path that leads to the hollow mountain of 
the sunset sea where he dies. But that is 
his mother-home, and when he enters it he 
is straightway born anew in the Under- 
world ; yet again, when night is done, to be 
born through the hollow mountain of the 
sunrise sea, his father-home. 

It is then at sunrise — after the nine 

days of their nativity are numbered — that 

the sisters of mothers carry forth the 

new-born babes with fervent prayers and 

32 



Commentary 

breathings to receive the young light and 
new breath of the ever-ancient but again 
new-born Sun-Father ; and as he is newly 
come from his father-home, so these little 
ones are now first given into the arms of 
their father's sisters, and named with the 
names of their childhood. Thus even as 
the Father of the Day is a new-made child 
in the morning, even so we pray that the 
light of his birth may linger long upon 
them ere they have their setting. 

We have learned why the Moon, fair 
bride of the Sun, is thus the mother of all 
maternity, and why, therefore, so often at 
night she leans forth over the terraced 
shores of the sky ocean, and reaches her 
white arms down toward now some, now 
others, of the mothers of men, according 
to their appointed days of sacrifice in Her 
waxing and waning ; while her younger 
sister, Goddess of the White Shells, 
beckons to men, — telling them that all 
maidens may become daughters of her 
elder sister, as their own mothers be- 
came, won by love-presents of her white 
shells from the shores of her home in the 
sea. 

33 



Commentary 

Our ancients tell how the Twain Be- 
loved who first guided them forth from the 
Under-world became warriors, — grim and 
misshapen, so ugly that all maidens jeered 
at them. Yet, forsooth, they would rival 
all youths ! 

"What are the most beautiful flowers 
that grow ? " said one. " The seven-hued 
flowers of Te-na-tsa-li," said the other. 
"Lo! we will seek him afar!" They 
found a measuring-worm greater than any 
ever seen by man. They called him 
"Grandfather," and with other winsome 
words won him to help them. 

" Sit ye astride me, little fellows," said 
he. Then he arched his back with such 
mighty strain that he stretched himself to 
the sky, and, plunging westward, reached 
even to the far mountain of Te-na-tsa-li ! 
There they found T6-na-tsa-li, aged and 
white-haired with all the winters that had 
ever been. And long they shouted ere He 
heard them, so old was he ! Hearing, he 
passed his hand before his breast, breath- 
ing mists, whence he issued, a youth glo- 
rious and happy to see, young with all the 
springtimes that had ever been. Flowers 
34 



were growing bright and fresh from his 
head-dress. Flowers sprang up all around 
his mountain from the mists of his breath. 
" Pluck these ! " he said, smiling gladly. 
And they plucked countless flowers from 
his head-dress, and countless the flowers 
grew where they had plucked. But when 
they returned to A'-mi-to-lan-ne, the mea- 
suring-worm, he was devouring the flow- 
ers at the foot of the mountain. " Nay, 
I will not bear ye back," said he, " ere I 
have plucked all these flowers ; for so great 
am I grown with my journey that no for- 
est would surfeit my hunger." 

"But we will deck thee. Grandfather, 
with some of these brighter ones ; and for 
food, consume the clouds of the sky as erst- 
while thou didst the forest leaves." 

Then he bore them back swiftly. And 
with their flowers they won the smiles of 
all maidens whose favor they chose to 
win. But, decked by the flowers they left 
on him, the measuring-worm of the skies 
sprang aloft, streaking the full length of 
his body with all their glorious colors. 
Fadeless these hues as the sun, for, as 
then he consumed the bright rain-clouds 
35 



Commentary 

and drew up the life of all flowers, so ever 
it is to this day. 

Evil and good are the gods, even as men. 
The Morning Star, elder of the Beloved 
Twain who descended, gives strength to 
the Bearers of Bows, and wakes them at 
the most fearsome time of the morning. 
The Sun. - Father, following, makes the 
world new each day, giving new life to all 
men, and the light of wisdom to his fa- 
vored children ; while the Moon-Mother 
renews life from month to month and 
generation to generation. But the light- 
ning — good from Wi'-lo-lo-a-ne — is deadly 
when sent by A'-nah-si-a-na, wielder of 
thunder- bolts ; so we cut their jagged 
swift lines on our arrows that these may 
be made certain and fatal by the power of 
likeness. And we paint on our shields the 
hated bright form of A'-mi-to-lan-ne, con- 
sumer of clouds, that our enemies, seeing 
it and dreading, may be withered as by him 
are green-growing things. Terrible is the 
Whirlwind Man-Eagle of the skies, wind- 
ing down from on high and striding over 
the earth. His form, and the form of his 
younger brother, the Eagle, whose plumes 
36 



Commentary 

we wear, we also paint on our war-gear. 
For our Fathers of the Bow were taught 
the potency of dread symbols. 

So, the fathers of our other sacred as- 
semblies were taught that with feather- 
stroking and fearless thought they could 
quell the anger of a venomed serpent, or 
command the fiercest beasts at night-time, 
with magic circles of yucca and crystals of 
divination. For by mystic motions and 
the power of the eye, they could draw their 
souls forth in the moonlight, and through 
those loops of rebirth enter their bodies 
and learn all their ways ; yea, and the craft 
of their gods themselves. So learned they 
of the great mountain lion of the North- 
land how to subdue alike the elk or the 
strong bison, how even to stay the flight of 
the grouse over the snow ; so of the bear 
and coyote, masters of the Westland, how 
to overreach even the mountain sheep ; 
and so of the wild-cat and the badger, mas- 
ters of the Southland, how to capture the 
red deer and draw fire from the cedar ; 
and of the gray, gaunt wolf-god of the 
Eastland they learned how his children 
overtake the fleet-footed comrades of the 
37 



Commentary 

dawn on far mesas, the antelopes ; so, too, 
of the eagle-god of the Over-world, how to 
be, as are his children, far-sighted and un- 
failing; and of the preymole and gopher, 
masters of the Under-world, how their chil- 
dren burrow pitfalls for unwary walkers. 
Gods, all of these, of all the Six Regions, 
in semblance of beasts who command sepa- 
rately in each. 

Magical as were our fathers, neither the 
master -gods, nor their messengers the 
beast-gods, would show aught to others 
than their own children among men, the 
elders of the clans named after them- 
selves, and they willed not that their se- 
crets be revealed to any others. Where- 
fore we have sacred assemblies of wise 
priests — of the North, twain brotherhoods, 
wielders of cold, makers of war ; of the 
West, world of waters, twain also, — hold- 
ers of the seed of rain and spring making ; 
of the South, twain, — masters of fire and 
scourgers of sorcery and fevered sickness ; 
of the East, twain holders of the seed of 
soil, of the secret of maturing, interpreters 
of the meaning of light to the Spirits of 
Men ; of the Over-world twain, — priests 
38 



Commentary 

of the eagle-kind, and of daylight to mor- 
tals ; and of the Under-world twain, — 
priests of the serpent and darkness, who 
know how begotten are all seeds and beings. 
These be the four brotherhoods of Win- 
ter, Spring, Summer, and Autumn ; of the 
medicines of Air, Water, Fire and Earth, 
whereby all beings live ; and the two bro- 
therhoods of the two states wherein all 
things and all creatures are, — waking or 
sleeping, — Light and Darkness. But over 
them all and wiser than all are our seven 
foremost fathers, guardians and priests of 
the prayers, songs and dances of our sacred 
A'-ka-ka ; first, the six masters of the re- 
gions six, then the Father of them all. 
Priest Speaker of the Sun, and the Mother 
of us all. Priestess Keeper of their seed, for 
they are of the mid-most place. 

So wise are these our fathers, that they 
can tell us why, when serpents, younger 
brothers of the Lightning, have stilled 
their rattling, the Thunder too is hushed, 
and the Bear lazily sleeps, no longer guard- 
ing the Westland from the cold of the Ice- 
gods and the white down of their mighty 
breathing. How, when the Bear awaking, 

39 



Commentary 

growls in springtime and the answering 
thunders mutter, the strength of the Ice- 
gods being shaken, the flute of Pai'-ya- 
tu-ma, god of dew and the dawn, sounds 
afar, and the breath of his corn-maidens 
singing, comes warm from the Southland. 
Lo ! their song-birds and butterflies, dan- 
cing to their music, forthwith bring Sum- 
mer. Then they tell us 't is the time to 
pluck the flowers of Te-na-tsa-li, renewer 
of seasons, whose flesh in the flowers re- 
news our flesh, as his breath in their fra- 
grance makes this the time of growing. 

Our fathers, priests of the Over-world 
and seers, teach us of things afar, and the 
hidden meanings they divine with the crys- 
tals we find, and they tell us of the sky- 
hero, God of the Turquoise ; how, when 
mortals became greedy of his gifts and 
importunate, he wearied, as did his bride, 
the white-plumed Goddess of Salt. So, to- 
gether they fled away, and wherever rained 
the sweat of their journey, on hilltop or 
mountain, it hardened to salt and tur- 
quoises. 

Our fathers of the midmost place, mas- 
ter priests of the six sacred Kiva-Houses, 
40 



Commentary 

go forth when the Sun-Priest calls them 
from the housetops, and with prayer-meal 
mark out the lines of the Six Regions 
whereby we shall plant our first corn hills ; 
and they counsel for us our plumed prayer- 
wands, that the Beings of all the great 
spaces may see in these plumes winged 
with meaning the needs of our children 
and corn-plants. 

Alas ! when we plant not these plumes 
with our hearts as well as before the eyes 
of men, no more may be seen the night- 
god of new waters, the Toad with the 
markings of turquoise, of coral and sun- 
shine on water. Nay, he sleeps in the 
Earth, until with labor and fasting our 
hearts are made right, and until by wor- 
ship in song and dance and with the sound 
of flutes and drums, we invoke the beloved 
Rain Gods until they must needs grant 
our beseechings. Then the Toad, appear- 
ing, wins further their favor. 

" Be ye true," said the Gods when time 
was new, " Be ye true, and by these things 
we give you, and by the customs we teach 
you, ye shall have power, even over our- 
selves." And lo ! our fathers in that time 
41 



Commentary 

toiled sleeplessly, nor feared they pain, 
that they might still their hearts of all 
other longing save to gain these things. 

All that they sought and gained has 
been yearly untied from the strands of 
song and story kept unbroken through all 
the lives of men by our sacred assemblies, 
and by the fathers of the Ka'-ka. For, as 
did our ancients, so do these, labor and 
watch and fast enduringly through all ap- 
pointed nights, keeping silence by day, that 
their sacred thoughts may be unbroken 
and their hearts be kept likewise true. So, 
in the perfection of their lives, our precious 
forms and things of the gods are kept 
potent, and even we are fitted to bring 
them at times into the sacred precincts 
of the shrines of all the Six Regions, and 
to join there our fathers in their vigils and 
fasts, and with our dances and songs to 
aid the power of their incantations and 
prayers. 

But even in the sight of these our fa- 
thers, we are poor of heart and halting of 
speech concerning sacred things. Where- 
fore, our fathers purify us with water and 
honey -dust consecrated by their living 
42 



Commentari? 

breaths, and bid us wear all of our trea- 
sures from sea, earth, and sky, shells of the 
ocean, turquoises of the mountains, and 
plumes of the eagle and birds of the sum- 
mer ; to apparel ourselves only in the dress 
of our Fair Goddess of Cotton, robes broid- 
ered brightly with symbols of meaning 
which shall speak for us — speak with the 
figured vases, wands and mantles we bear 
into the presence ; speak for us and save 
us from fear and disfavor, when at the call 
of their dread but beloved names, the 
Mighty Gods from the far Regions lay 
hold of their parts in our altars. By these 
fulfilments of our worship we win all gifts, 
not corn alone, but length of life. Aye, 
we live, live, though for ages danger and 
war have sore encompassed us here in the 
midmost place. 

Even so said the Twain Beloved when 
they led men forth into daylight, and the 
borders of the world were new and all un- 
stable with earthquakes and thunder : " Seek 
ye the place of the middle, the lap of the 
Earth-Mother, — there only may ye bide 
in safety." And they led them for count- 
less years through far journeys. Great 
43 



Commentary 

were our people, greater and greater grew 
they, walking with Gods as they eastward 
came. 

In the tales of those times their wisdom 
is told us. We are their children ! Until 
our hearths are blackened, these tales shall 
be told. Naught else will keep our fires 
from dying ! 

There was a man, — born ere the Twain 
Beloved descended. Alone he walked the 
Path of Day. His prayer that men be 
born to the sunlight was granted ! But 
no man knew, and ages passed away, Lo! 
he was born again, poor and lonely, when 
men had grown evil. It was his prayer 
that he be born again, which was granted ! 
Oh, our Master P6-shai-an-k'ya, we did not 
know him ! Only few knew him. These 
followed him to his wondrous City-in-the- 
Mists-Enfolded, and were taught by him 
all that men lacked of good ; all that men 
knew not of the mysteries of worship ; all 
that men needed for the ways of life. " He 
who lives the perfect life," said P6-shai-an- 
k'ya, the master, " so living shall perfect 
the lives of the imperfect. He who lives 
the perfect life, his heart must be undi- 
44 



Commentary 

vided and unwavering. He who would be 
heard by the silent Surpassing Ones, must 
pray in his heart ; speaking or not speak- 
ing, he shall be heard ! " Saying such 
things, — as the sinking Sun is instantly 
gone, the Master left them and never came 
again. But when we pray in the words he 
taught us, it is His prayer that is granted ! 
Yea, and shall be so long as we keep burn- 
ing in our hearts his sacred fire, and with 
willing hands from season to season light 
it anew on our altars. 

The soul of the dead when but newly 
done with the daylight of life is like an 
awakened dreamer, dazed and seeing 
naught, dumb and hearing naught. It is 
lost until severed wholly from the sunlight- 
life. So, we of the nearest kin break be- 
side the still waiting soul a vase of the 
water of bodily life, giving back to the Sun 
at his setting the Life of Days as he gave 
it in the morning of childhood, — that the 
soul, set free, shall sink like him, to live 
again with the souls there below the dark 
waters of Ka'-thlu-el-lon, and, like him, rise 
again to breath in the clouds here above 
us. Therefore, too, we give the body to 
45 



Commentary 

the Earth-Mother, that it call not the soul 
forth to be a lonely ghost, or vex it while 
it is taking part in the glad councils and 
dances of the Ancients. So also we plant 
by the river-side plumes of the westward- 
winging summer-birds, as the signs of Life 
and of the way and of our prayers, to waft 
the unwakened soul thither, and speak for 
it whilst as yet it knows not the life of the 
Lake of Spirits. Verily we lie down to 
the sleep of fulfilment fearlessly and well 
content. We do not forget that the light- 
ning is not dimmed by the darkness. It 
but gleams the more brightly. Even so is 
it with the souls of men in the night-time 

of death. 

***** 

The ruined towns of the Ancient People 
lie scattered throughout the valleys and 
plains of our vast southwest. Whilst some 
of these mark the paths of their slow mi- 
grations, others were their homes for ages. 
This was conclusively shown by the ex- 
tensive and careful excavations continued 
for nearly two years by the Hemenway 
Archaeological Expedition, in some of the 
ancient cities or great clusters of pueblos 
46 



Commentary 

in southern Arizona. There, in the lower 
plain of the Salado River alone, I found 
and examined some thirteen of these Pue- 
blo cities. Each of them was buried from 
sight save for a great solitary earth mound 
which stood surrounded by low, wide- 
reaching and seemingly natural undulations 
of the soil. Traversing the plain almost 
from border to border were wavering, faint 
lines of water-stones, and here and there 
dim furrows. These — so it proved later 
— showed the courses of canals, once well 
lined with hardened clay. Each slightest 
elevation around the great mounds covered 
the foundations of many-roomed houses, 
while the central mounds themselves proved 
to be great Kiva-Temples. The arrange- 
ment of the rooms in these was so like the 
plans marked out in prayer-meal for priest- 
ly ceremonials in Zuni to-day, and the 
paraphernalia we unearthed from them 
were so like what is used in these same 
Zuni ceremonials, that one must needs be- 
lieve the builders of those and uncounted 
other such cities to have been near kin- 
dred to the Zunis, at least in culture. Be- 
lieving, as the Zunis do, that they were 
47 



Commentary 

more than this, that these ruins were the 
homes of their own ancestors and " Lost 
Others," — those who faltered in seeking 
the Middle of the World, and so drifted 
away southward, no one knows whither, 
— we cannot wonder that they speak of 
theirs as the " Waning Moon," likening us 
palefaces in number to those same dead 
ancestors and Lost Others. 

And again, if one thinks as they so often 
think, of the times when they fled from 
their beloved plain at the middle of the 
world, and rebuilt on the broad and lofty 
summit of Thunder Mountain their citadels 
of stone, and that in those days as far as 
the eye could reach from their topmost 
terrace, all the plains and valleys were 
their own possessions, stoutly held in stress 
of war at fearful odds ; we can imagine 
what they think and feel to-day when all 
too easily they look across the narrow 
strip of land we let them call their own. 
Miss Proctor tells us in words so like their 
own that it seems almost vain to add an- 
other. Yet this is what their old men 
say : — 

" Beasts in a tempest do not bellow at 
48 



Commentary 

the wind ; they know it would not heed 
them ! Let us then turn our backs to the 
coming time of stormy thoughts, our faces 
to the mighty past of our ancients, — that 
past which never ceases, — that we may 
remember we are their children, and be 
strong yet a little longer." 

In such wise do the old men answer 
when some one younger wonders how it 
will seem when they are all like " Ameri- 
cans," as some Americans promise they 
shall be. " Ye will not be like them," I 
once heard a venerable sage reply, " ye will 
be dead ! Aye, and 't is better so ! " 
49 



By JOHN FISKE 



X 



I. " Ours is the ancient wisdom." — The 
kiva, better known to us, perhaps, by its Span- 
ish name estiifa, is, among other things, the 
university, or perhaps we might say the divinity 
school, of the Pueblo. Here the young man 
is orally instructed in all the sacred rites and 
ceremonies of his people, their genesis and 
their traditions. So careful are they that no 
mistakes shall be made, the youth is obliged to 
go over, day after day and year after year, these 
oral instructions and the long rituals, until he 
is able to repeat them without the loss of a sen- 
tence or word, thereby proving himself quali- 
fied to succeed the older men of his people, 
and so transmit this sacred knowledge to com- 
ing generations. 

The picture represents a daily occurrence in 
the kiva life. The priests have taken their 
proper places about the fiat altar, where a 
small fire is kept burning ; a youth stands be- 
fore them, in class, so to speak, receiving his 
lesson. 

53 



Among the Moquis, the kiva is excavated out 
of the rock below the surface of the mesa, and 
then covered over, leaving an opening through 
which descent is made by a ladder. The kivas 
of the Zuni and the Pueblos of the Rio Grande 
are built above the ground, although entrance 
to them is made from the top, as with the 
Moquis. 

In each Pueblo there are as many kivas as 
there are groups or classes of esoteric socie- 
ties ; as, for example, the orders of the Ante- 
lope, the Snake, the Bear, the Eagle, etc., etc. 
The basket, co-ja-ni-na (people of the Willows), 
so called from the tribe that live at the foot 
of Cataract Canon, among the heavy grove of 
willows that grow there, contains pe-ki, the na- 
tive bread, of a slate color. The embroidered 
sash is used in ceremonies. The jar, or olla^ 
containing water, can be found in all the kivas 
when work is going on. 

The men all smoke during their ceremonies, 
sometimes their ancient pipes, but more gen- 
erally cigarettes. 

2. The Sun-god, the chief deity of the Pueblo 
Indians, is believed to be the Father of all 
men. He dies every evening with the setting, 
and is born anew every morning with the ris- 
ing sun. '* The Sun-father, soaring above the 
54 



sun, moon, and stars, ... is surrounded by the 
symbols of the principal phenomena in nature 
that are regarded as essentially beneficent to 
mankind." (Bandelier, The Delight Makers, p. 
I47-) 

2. " We carry our netv-born children forth'^ — 
Among the Moqui Indians, it is customary, 
twenty days after the birth of a child, to intro- 
duce the infant to the sun. The godmother, 
after wrapping the baby in an old blanket, and 
placing it in its cradle, laces the child, together 
with an ear of corn, snugly in its place. 

The father watches for the coming of the 
sun, and when he announces its faintest ap- 
pearance, the godmother with the child, fol- 
lowed by the mother, steps out of the house, 
and they stand on each side of the door, the 
mother at the right, the godmother at the left. 
They both scatter sacred meal as the sun ap- 
pears. As soon as the child has been thus pre- 
sented they retire into the house, where their 
relatives are awaiting them. For a complete 
account of this ceremony, see the article " Na- 
tal Ceremonies of the Hopi Indians," by J. G. 
Owens, in the journal of American Ethnology 
arid Archceology, vol. ii. p. 163. In Zuni the 
ceremony, which is very similar, is performed 
on the tenth day. See Mrs. Stevenson, " Re- 

55 



ligious Life of a Zuni Child," in M/tk Report 
of the Bureau of Ethnology. 

3. ^^ A'-mi-to-la7i-ne" is one of the Zuni names 
for rainbow. There are distinct Rainbow gods 
and goddesses, as there are distinct Lightning 
deities. Nearly all phenomena, personified as 

gods, are in a measure regarded as animals, I 

and of each kind there are apt to be many, 

male and female, good and evil. Thus the 

principal Rainbow god is a male, ''false and 

cruel " like the " ruthless worm " that devours 

the buds. He is called " consumer of clouds," 

*' stealer of the thunder-ball," etc. On the 

other hand the " Rainbow of the Mist," A'-mi- 

to-la-ni-tsa, is a fertile female, a kinswoman of 

the Dew or Morning-Mist. She is the bearer 

of salubrious breaths and good tidings from 

" Those Above," i. e., the immortal Cosmic 

Gods. 

4. " The Corn-maids " are mythological be- 
ings supposed to give fertility to the soil and 
foster the growth of the corn. In the Corn- 
Drama they are personated by virgins regarded 

as their own human sisters. '■ 

During the planting season, and until the 
ripening of the corn, these virgins are fre- 
quently employed in watching the fields, that 
the ravens may not raid them and destroy the 
56 



1 



i]5otc0 

prospect of a crop. They build bowers of 
cotton-wood limbs, for shade, and in these 
make their summer homes, having with them 
their blankets and furs, and such needlework 
as they occupy their time with. The picture is 
from a sketch made in the Zuni basin, some six 
miles from the Pueblo. 

The costumes of all the Pueblo women are 
quite the same. All the blanket-dresses are 
made by the Moquis, and sold by them among 
the other Pueblos. Sometimes they receive 
money in return, but more often ponies, shell 
beads, turquoise beads, silver ornaments made 
by the Navajos, and larger and more fanciful 
blankets for general covering. 

In this picture of the Zuni girls one can 
fancy one's self looking at a bevy of Moqui 
maidens (barring the cart-wheel pufifs), or any 
of the young women of the Pueblos of the Rio 
Grande. The type is the same among them 
all. 

5. " The eagle, bird of the Whirlwind-God" 
figures often in Zuni folk-tales, where he per- 
forms marvelous feats. *' Eagle feathers are 
highly esteemed for religious purposes. Eagles 
are kept in wattled corrals on the west side of 
Zuni Pueblo, in the plaza near the church, and 
here and there throughout the Pueblo, some- 
57 



0OttSi 

times even on the housetops, without cages. 
They are often sorry -looking birds, poorly 
representing an emblem of national power." 
(J. W. Fewkes, jfournal of American Ethnology 
and ArchcBology, vol. ii. p. 26.) 

5. " Wile the wolf fro7n his den.'' — The In- 
dians have peculiar calls which they use in 
alluring game within shooting distance of the 
bow and arrow ; and sometimes so close that 
they can dispatch a wolf or coyote with their 
stone axes. 

The call which allures the wolf is the pecu- 
liar sound uttered by the female wild turkey. 
Then they use the bone of the turkey leg for 
a whistle, with which they imitate various 
birds, calling the larger ones by uttering the 
notes of the small ones, upon which they prey. 
These are the methods most obvious to us, 
but regarded by the Indian as comparatively 
clumsy. Priests of the hunter societies, through 
their intimate knowledge of animal habits and 
aptitudes, exhibit remarkable powers of charm- 
ing beasts and birds. They sometimes pro- 
duce effects analogous to hypnotism. Mr. 
Gushing tells me that he has seen prairie-dogs 
lured out to the edges of their burrows by cries 
half-imitative, half-musical ; and then held mo- 
tionless there by the flashing of light into their 
58 



I 



eyes from prisms of rock-crystal, until they be- 
came stupefied and could be captured alive. 

The landscape in this picture is from the 
butte and canon country of northern Arizona. 

7. " The lilies of Te-na-tsa-li." — This person 
is the hero of a folk-tale. He attempted to woo 
a lovely maiden, who, with her three beautiful 
sisters, lived at Kiakima on Thunder Moun- 
tain. These maidens were very rich, and made 
beautiful baskets. Many young men tried to 
woo them, but each one disappeared mysteri- 
ously, having been killed by these cruel but 
beautiful girls. T^-na-tsa-li, a child of the gods, 
the brother of the god of Dew, loved the elder 
one, and went to her house. The maiden said 
if he could hide from her so she could not find 
him, then she would wed him ; but he, know- 
ing her magic arts, refused to go first, and in- 
sisted upon her hiding from him. This she 
tried to do, but by means of magic he found 
her. Then he tried to hide from her, but, know- 
ing that she could find him, by magic, any- 
where on earth, he mounted on a sun's ray to 
the Sun-father. The maiden followed his foot- 
steps till they stopped, and then, filling a shell 
with water, looked into it and saw the reflec- 
tion of the sun, and T^-na-tsa-li hidden there. 
When he found he was discovered, Td-na-tsa-Ii 
59 



came to the earth again, and asked the maiden 
what her commands were. Without answering 
she drew a sharp obsidian knife from her robe 
and cut off his head, buried the body, and 
dragged the bleeding head to her house, where 
she hid it. As Te-na-tsa-li did not return home, 
his brother went to find him, and was able to 
trace him by the beautiful flowers which had 
sprung up where he had stepped or his blood 
had dropped. The bright-colored lilies which 
grow near Zuni are called the lilies of Te-na- 
tsa-li, and are said to have the power to heal 
the sick and those who have suffered in war. 
(Abridged from a Zuni folk-tale, translated by 
F. H. Gushing.) 

7. ^''Flant the earliest maizes — In aboriginal 
American mythology the beautiful Indian com 
plays as prominent a part as the cow in an- 
cient Aryan folk-lore. Dr. Fewkes observes 
that "this characteristic American plant may 
rightly be called the natural food of all the 
Pueblo people. Their folk-tales teem with ref- 
erences to it, and it is regarded as one of the 
best gifts of the gods. Their language is rich 
in names for maize in its different stages of 
growth, and for the products made from it." 

7. '■'■ Prayer-plumes " are "painted sticks to 
which the feathers or down of various birds 
60 



(according to the nature of the prayer they are 
to signify) are attached. The aborigine depos- 
its these wherever and whenever he feels Uke 
addressing himself to the higher powers, be it 
for a request, in adoration only, or for thanks- 
giving. In a certain way the prayer-plume or 
plume-stick is a substitute for prayer, inas- 
much as he who has not time may deposit it 
hurriedly as a votive offering. The paint which 
covers the piece of stick to which the feather 
is attached becomes appropriately significant 
through its colors ; the feather itself is the sym- 
bol of human thought, flitting as one set adrift 
in the air toward heaven, where dwell those 
above." (BsLndeVier, T/ie £>e//g/if Makers, p. loo.) 

" While she stands and gazes and dreams, a 
flake of down becomes detached, and quivers 
upward in the direction of the moon's silvery 
orb. Such a flitting and floating plume is the 
symbol of prayer. It rises and rises, and at 
last disappears as if absorbed by moonlight. 
The mother above has listened to her entreaty, 
for the symbol of her thought, the feather, has 
gone to rest in the bosom of her who watches 
over every house, who feels with every loving, 
praying heart." (/h'd. p. 154.) 

7. "As/u// to the east we ktieel." — The cere- 
mony of planting ba-hos (prayer-sticks) at the 
61 



watering-places is common among all the Pue- 
blo Indians. A certain order, called K5-K5, is 
composed partly of unmarried women, who take 
a vow of celibacy before entering the order. 
They repair to the springs before dawn, and 
place the ba-hos about the water. This is to 
invoke the aid of the water-god to send them 
plenty of rain, that their crops may be bounti- 
ful. 

The feathers attached to the ba-hos symbol- 
ize thought, and in this ceremony waft their 
prayers to the water-god above ; the sticks to 
which the feathers are attached are fashioned 
to represent lightning, the water-deity. 

The Pueblo Indians, not being able to sepa- 
rate the subjective from the objective, recog- 
nize a likeness between the snake and the 
lightning, therefore they are related ; and for 
this reason we account for their high venera- 
tion of the snake. They believe lightning to 
be the water-god himself. When he appears 
he strikes a cloud, and the report of the blow 
is the thunder which follows ; the effect is rain. 

This ceremony is performed two or three or 
more times a year, according to the condition 
of the weather. Drought will bring the Ko- 
Ko together for this ceremony more frequently, 
of course. 

62 



i]5otC0 

Prayer-sticks of similar construction to the 
ba-ho are placed about the graves of the de- 
parted. 

7. ^^And the water-god, the jeweled toad.^^ — 
In the Southwest during and after a rain the 
beautiful desert toads come to the surface, and 
when wet their bodies reflect the light and shine 
like jewels. The Indians believed that these 
toads had power to bring rain, and so they used 
to make images of toads which they placed 
along their watercourses to guide the water. 
Very few of these fetishes are known to exist 
now; but beautiful ancient specimens, encrusted 
with turquoises and coral-shells inlaid in gum, 
were found by the Hemenway Expedition in 
the buried Pueblos of the Salado valley. 

9. '■'■The dance and prayers of the A'-kd,-kd,.^^ 
— The A'-ka-ka (called Ka-tci-nas by the Mo- 
quis) is the brotherhood of the Mythic-Drama- 
Dance, and its members represent symbolically 
the souls of the first ancestors of mankind. 
For further accounts see Mrs. Stevenson, " Re- 
ligious Life of a Zuiii Child," in Fifth Report of 
the Bureau of Ethnology. 

1 1. " Crosses, terraces, slanting bars^ — " The 
red cross is the symbol of the morning star ; 
the white, of the evening. The terraced pyra- 
mids are the clouds, for the clouds appear to 
63 



r 



0Ott3 

the Indian as staircases leading to heaven, and 
they in turn support the rainbow, a tri-colored 
arch." (Bandelier, Tke Delight Makers, p. 147.) 

12. '■'•Twin children of the Siinr — There is 
a tradition among the Zuni and Moqui Indians 
that two youths, called " twin children of the 
Sun," bade adieu to their people, and started 
upon a pilgrimage to find where day began. 
They were never heard of afterward, but it is 
supposed they are now the guests of the Ka- 
tcf-nas. They are the " Twain-Beloved " men- 
tioned in the Zuni Familiar's Co?nmentary. 

These young men are represented in the tra- 
ditional primitive costume of the cougar skin, 
bow and quiver, and the eagle feather. 

12. ^^Po-shai-an-k-ya, the master." — A great 
character in Zuni mythology, the leader and 
saviour of the people. See Mr. Cushing's 
Commentary, above, p. 42. The conception of 
P6-shai-an-k'ya, as here presented by Mr. 
Gushing, suggests the query whether it does 
not betray the influence of Christian ideas. 

15. ** The silent heart's appeal." — Mr. Scott's 
picture is an Arizona scene, the site of one of 
tixe ancient cities, the ruins of which the In- 
dians maintain have always been ruins ; no 
traditions exist among them of a time when 
they were standing, and were the abode of men. 
64 



The figure is a middle-aged woman who has 
had trouble ; she has ascended the high mesa 
to where the altar stands, and is alone with her 
sorrow. These altars are found in an almost 
perfect state of preservation (so sacred are 
they held by all the Indians) among the vast 
ruined towns that are found on the mesa tops 
that skirt the valleys of Arizona and New Mex- 
ico. 

15. '■^The rare tobacco leavesJ" — Dr. Fewkes 
says {journal, vol. iii. p. 76) that native to- 
bacco was used in the sacred ceremonials. 
Although he supplied the Indians plentifully 
with white men's tobacco, he never saw them 
use it in sacred rites. The bark of the red 
willow is often used in place of tobacco. 

16. *' By the dead a vase of zvater clear." — It 
is the custom to break a bowl of clear water 
beside the dead, that the soul may have an 
easy and speedy passage to the other world. 

16. ''Through KA-thlu-el' -Ion's Lake." — This 
is a sacred lake about sixty miles southwest of 
Zuni, through which the A'-ka-ka are believed 
to have come up on the earth, and through 
which, after death, the soul passes to Shi-papu, 
where there is eternal dancing and feasting. 

18. "Far to west, Francisco's peaks." — Mr. 
Scott's picture is a view under the mesa of Shi- 
65 



mo-pa-vi. The man is going for wood ten 
miles away across the desert, while the girls, 
on their way to the spring, are waving him a 
good-by. 

The pueblo of Shi-mo-pa-vi is the loftiest of 
the Moqui villages. From its walls there is 
a glorious view of the desert, with the snow- 
capped peaks of the Francisco Mountains in 
central Arizona, the range whence the Fran- 
cisco River winds its way down to the Gila and 
the weird Colorado, until its waters are lost in 
the Vermilion Sea, as the old explorers used to 
call the Gulf of California. These mountains 
have nothing to do with San Francisco, from 
which they are distant many hundred miles; 
nor do they belong even to the Sierra Nevada, 
but to the Rocky Mountain system. 

The picture is taken from the upper terrace 
of the mesa. There are three terraces below 
as one descends to the sand dunes and debris 
at the base, where you may still see the ruins 
of the old town of Shi-mo-pa-vi, destroyed in 
warfare three centuries ago. Its ancient water- 
ing-places still remain, and supply the present 
pueblo. 

20. " We are the Ancient People." — The pic- 
ture is a view of the Pueblo of Wdlpi, which is 
the most southerly village on the first Moqui 
66 



mesa; it is upon the terminal point of the 
mesa, eight hundred feet above the desert. 
Here the famous biennial snake dance takes 
place about the Sacred Rock in front of the 
Pueblo. 

The rock about which the performance takes 
place can be seen directly in front of the low- 
est white dwelling. 

The stone corrals in the foreground are for 
the sheep which are taken down to the desert 
and back daily. 

The mesa just above the corrals is only 
about twelve feet wide, and the trail to Walpi 
over this part has been worn to eight and 
ten inches deep by bare feet and soft mocca- 
sins. 

20. "(9z/r heralds call at sunset stilly — It is 
still the custom in Zuni and Moqui for the her- 
ald, who is a kind of town crier, to announce 
events, make known the loss of goods, etc. 

21. ^'■By towering Ta-ai-yat-lo-ne." — Mid- 
way between the gateway of Zuni and the 
Canon of Cottonwoods stands majestic Thun- 
der Mountain, Ta-ai-yal'-lo-ne, magnificent in 
the coloring and chiseling of its rocky sides. 
From its hill-ensconced base to its almost level 
summit, the height is about a thousand feet. 
At the foot stand the ruins of the ancient 

6; 



Zuni town of Kiakima. It was near this spot 
that the negro Estevanico, companion of Fray 
Marcos of Nizza, was killed by the Zunis in 
1539. See Fiske, Discovery of America^ vol. ii. 

P- 505- 

22. " The trickling springs at the mesa foot." 

— All the water at Moqui has to be carried up 
to a height of seven hundred feet from the 
springs at the foot of the mesa. Morning and 
evening the women meet at the watering-places 
to fill their large canteens and ollas, or earthen 
jars. They take the occasion for rest and gos- 
sip, and, after all, while their lives are full of 
toil, they seem careless and happy, and cer- 
tainly enjoy themselves more than when put 
among civilized people whose advanced condi- 
tion they cannot at all comprehend. 

It is extremely interesting to go to the 
springs early in the morning or at close of day 
and study the groups that collect by them. At 
first they are shy and restrained by the pres- 
ence of a stranger, but on acquaintance they 
resume their natural ways, and begin to chatter 
and frolic. 

The Moqui women dress their hair in differ- 
ent ways to distinguish a maiden from a mar- 
ried woman. The former wears upon the side 
of her head, just above the ears, huge cart- 
68 



wheel puffs, while the married women and old 
women wear theirs braided, banged, tied in a 
knot behind, or allowed to drop loosely by the 
sides. The Spaniards noticed these cart-wheel 
puffs in 1539. No other Pueblo women have 
adopted this peculiar way of distinguishing the 
maidens. 

This scene is from under the second Moqui 
mesa. 

22. '^A'-sAi-wi^' is a Zuni name for the Zunis 
themselves. 

23. "77/^ mountain meadow'' s bloom'^ — In 
the Zuhi Mountains there are little meadows 
where the deer used to graze, and the picture 
represents one of these green places about 
twenty miles from Zuni. 

It was the ancient hunting-ground of the 
Zuni Indians, and is at the present time occu- 
pied by a cattle company, whose herds have 
supplanted the deer and antelope of other 
days. In some of the valleys the pine-tree 
grows to very great proportions. It should be 
borne in mind that the altitude of these grazing 
spots is not less than six and seven thousand 
feet above the level of the sea. 
69 



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